Merry Christmas Indeed
by starrnobella
Summary: Whatever your reason for hating a holiday can sometimes be turned around by a few good friends who care. COMPLETE


A/N: It's December and that means its time for some festive stories for my festive friends. This year articcat621, GaeilgeRua, SquarePeg72, thescarletphoenixx, xxDustNight88 and I decided to write stories for one another and group them together in the Festive Friends collection found on AO3.

My second story for the collection was prompted by the lovely GaeilgeRua. The prompt was: Christmas is Character A's favorite holiday, while Character B's is most definitely not. How does Character A make the holiday better for Character B?

I decided that I was going to step out this Christmas and write a completely different fandom than I've ever written before. I love the show House and all of the characters that have graced that screen. Hopefully, I didn't write them all too far out of character.

I hope that GaeilgeRua enjoys this story and likes what I've done with her prompt as well as all of the other readers who happen to pick up this story.

I hope you're feeling festive because there are a lot more stories yet to come!

Love always,  
~starr

* * *

It was nearing midnight when Masters appeared at the door of his office. He didn't have to look up to know it was her. The nervous energy that exploded into the room at her arrival was more than enough to tell him exactly who it was.

"It's Christmas Eve," House grumbled, staring intently at the images on his computer screen. "What could you possibly still be doing here?"

"They needed volunteers in the free clinic, and I needed the clinic hours," Masters replied, fidgeting with the folder in her hands.

"If you wanted more clinic hours, all you needed to do was ask. You can have all of mine for the next month," he said, turning his head in her direction. He opened his mouth to say something else but closed it when he noticed the folder in her hands. "What's that?"

Masters looked down at her hands quickly before glancing back up at House. "I found a case in the clinic."

House looked at her for a moment and waited, expecting her to bring him the case file. With a heavy sigh, he reached his hand over his desk and motioned her to come into his office. "If you want me to consider taking the case, I need to see the file and seeing as I'm crippled and my cane isn't within arms reach, so what do you think you need to do with the folder?"

"Right," Masters said, shaking her head as she walked over to his desk and handed him the file. "Here you go."

House took the file and dropped it on his desk. "You can go now."

"But -"

"Go home. Be with your family," House replied, rolling his eyes. He could say the same thing to himself, but his hatred of this time of year stopped him from caring too much.

"You should be with your family too," Master replied with a sigh. "Merry Christmas, House."

With that, she left him alone in his office and his thoughts. He should probably call his mother, but he didn't want to listen to the lecture about why he wasn't coming home for the holiday. He glanced down at the clock on his desk. _Midnight_. Merry Christmas, indeed.

Picking the file off his desk, he shoved it into his briefcase and reached for his cane. Slowly, he pushed himself out of his chair and grimaced at the pain in his leg — that constant reminder of a time in his life where he wasn't given a choice. House reached down and rubbed it for a second before making his way around the desk and out of his office. He'd look at Master's case in the morning. If it was a pressing case, he was sure that his cellphone would be ringing from the clinic, asking him to come as soon as possible.

As he made his way over to the elevator, he thought about the name he had chosen for the hospital's holiday gift exchange. He didn't recall agreeing to participate in the silly thing. All he remembered was Lisa Cuddy marching into his office with a basket and telling him to pick a piece of paper. Taking a step inside the elevator, he made his way to the back wall, leaning up against it and closing his eyes for the short trip. Maybe he could get out of the whole ordeal by just avoiding Cuddy like he usually did.

The elevator reached the first floor, and the doors opened. House had barely gotten off the elevator when he heard his least favorite noise in the entire world.

"What are you still doing here? I watched most of your team leave around six," Cuddy said, draping her coat over her shoulders as she walked beside him.

"What are you still doing here? You're the Dean of Medicine, you can leave whenever you want for the day," House replied, shaking his head as he peaked at her out of the corner of his eye.

"I cannot," she remarked, tying off the waist strap of her coat. "Someone's got to make sure this place keeps running, no matter what day of the year it is."

"You're Jewish," House said, stopping just shy of the main door of the hospital.

"And?" Cuddy replied, crossing her arms over her chest as she stopped just shy of where House was standing. "My family still celebrates Christmas and Hanukkah."

"Well aren't we a bit greedy," House said, rolling his eyes.

"Quit being a Scrooge. The party starts at seven o'clock sharp tomorrow evening. Don't be late and wear a tie," she said, reaching into her coat pocket to pull out her car keys.

"But Mom," House whined, pouting his lower lip and stomping his foot on the ground.

"And don't forget your holiday exchange gift. Hopefully, you put some thought into it; I know your gifter put a lot of thought into your gift. Merry Christmas, House," she called out, shaking her head as she made her way out the door.

House watched her walk away and smiled to himself. So they managed to pull each other's names out of the basket. This party just got a lot more interesting.

"Merry Christma, Cuddy," he said, knowing full well that she didn't hear him. Walking out of the hospital, he made his way over to his bike.

. . . . . . . . .

The obnoxious knocking on his front door pulled House out of his thoughts as he finished off tying his tie. He glanced up at the clock on the wall and rolled his eyes. Of course, Wilson was early. He was always early for everything. They didn't have to be at the party for two more hours, so what the hell was he doing here now for?

Making his way over to the door, House pulled it opened and scowled at the man standing on the other side. "You're early."

"Am I?" Wilson asked innocently as he made his way inside. He was looking around the apartment and frowned when he didn't see any Christmas decorations. "You didn't even put up a tree?"

"Why would I put up a tree?" House replied, pushing the door closed and turning his attention back to the mirror on the wall as he fussed with his tie once more.

"To get into the holiday spirit," Wilson said, shaking his head.

"I don't have any. And I don't want any," House said, looking over his shoulder at his best friend as he stood in the middle of the living.

"You know you don't always have to be such a Scrooge," Wilson replied.

"How would people know who I was if I wasn't a Scrooge?" House asked, batting his eyes. Slowly he turned around and presented himself to Wilson. "How do I look?"

"Fine, I guess," Wilson replied. "You did buy a gift, right?"

"Of course I did," he replied, a shocked look appearing on his face as he realized that his best friend didn't even trust him to buy a simple Christmas present. "My mother taught me that it was rude to show up to a party empty-handed."

Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Wilson hung his head. He had walked right into that one and was given exactly the answer he was expecting to get. "Are you ready to leave?"

"We'll be two hours early if we leave now," House replied, furrowing his brow.

"We've got a stop to make first," Wilson answered, walking towards the door. He pulled open slowly and nodded in the direction of the door. "After you."

Donning a puzzled look upon his face, House grabbed his cane and the small gift bag off the table near the door and made his way out the door. "We are going to Cuddy's, correct? This isn't some big plot to trick me into rehab, is it?"

Wilson rolled his eyes as he pulled the door to the apartment shut behind him. "Just get in the car."

. . . . . . . .

The car pulled up in front of the hospital, and House turned his head to look a Wilson. "What are we doing here?"

"I forgot something," Wilson replied, putting the car in park and unbuckling his seatbelt. "Don't move. I'll be right back."

He quickly opened the door and climbed out, slamming it shut behind him. House rolled his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest of the seat. Leave it to Wilson to leave something at the hospital when they had other places to be. Out of the corner of his eye, he glanced down and noticed the time on the clock.

It was almost time for them to be at Cuddy's. How slow was Wilson driving to get them to the hospital? Rolling his eyes, House allowed himself to drift off as he waited for Wilson to return.

. . . . . . . .

_In his mind, he could hear a commotion being made in another room, and the smell of Christmas dinner flooded his nostrils. Looking around, House realized that his mind had transported him back to the last Christmas he had spent with his parents, before his surgery, but after the accident. _

_He spotted Stacey sitting on the couch with his mother, laughing and having a jolly old time. His father was tending to the fire, and there he was sitting on a chair looking out the window, watching the snowfall. The dull ache in his leg, distracting him from everything else that was going on. When he woke up tomorrow morning, he and Stacy would be heading to the hospital for the consultation for the muscle in his leg. He had a pretty good idea about what was wrong, but of course, Stacy wanted to be sure. _

_Who scheduled a consultation for Christmas day? If this was any indication of the intelligence level of his surgeon, House was not looking forward to this consultation. However, he was, of course, doing it for Stacey. He'd do anything for her. _

_An aneurysm and muscle death that was the Christmas present House was left with that day and when his hatred for the day deepened. _

. . . . . . . . .

House was jolted awake by the slamming of the back door of the car just behind his head. Shaking his head furiously, he blinked his eyes a few times before turning to watch Wilson climb into the car. "Was that really necessary?"

"I was gone for two minutes," Wilson replied, driving away from the hospital. "How could you possibly have fallen asleep that fast?"

"I wasn't asleep," House grumbled. "I was thinking, and no, I don't want to talk about it."

"Okay then," Wilson said, nodding his head as he focused on the road. "We should be at Cuddy's soon."

The rest of the drive to the Christmas party was silent. Wilson knew that whatever House had been thinking about was adding to his dull mood, but there was nothing he could do to get him to open about it right now. Maybe when they got to the party, he could distract himself at least for a little while.

As they pulled up to Cuddy's drive, Wilson took a deep breath and shut off the car. Before he opened the door to get out, he turned to House with a sympathetic look on his face and placed a hand on his arm.

"What?" House asked, fighting the urge to roll his eyes as he looked down at Wilson's hand.

"I know you hate this holiday," Wilson answered, moving his hand away from House's arm and resting it on the center console of the car. "But just for tonight, can you fake it so that this party is a success? Lisa is just trying to do something nice for the hospital staff. She knows that we all have been working crazy long hours lately, and she wanted to reward us. So if there is a scintilla of kindness anywhere in your heart, let it show tonight."

Exhaling sharply, House reached for the car door and nodded his head. "Fine, I'll be on my best behavior until someone says something stupid."

"That's better than what I was expecting you to say," Wilson sighed, opening his car door and getting his present out of the backseat.

The pair made their way from the car to the House. The joyful noise of holiday music could be heard outside of the door. House groaned, and in response, Wilson elbowed him in the side as he knocked on the door. A few moments later, the door opened to the smiling face of Lisa Cuddy.

"Merry Christmas, James," she announced cheerfully, reaching out to hug him. "Come on inside."

"Merry Christmas, Lisa," Wilson replied, reciprocating the hug and heading inside the party. As he walked away, it left Gregory House and Lisa Cuddy standing alone. One with a smile on their face and the other a smirk.

"Cuddy," House said, nodding his head as he extended the gift in his hand to her. "This is for you. I picked your name in the gift exchange."

Lisa took the gift offered to her with a smile. "Thank you, House. Please come inside."

She stepped aside, ushering him inside. Walking in the door, he noticed the large crowd of people gathered in the living room and the dining room. Neither group of people looked particularly enjoyable for him. He took a deep breath and started to move towards the living room. At least there was a comfortable couch there that he could hide out on until Wilson was ready to leave.

"There's a bottle of scotch and a copy of Mulliner Nights on the desk in my study," Cuddy said, gently touching his shoulder and pointing him in the direction of the study. "Merry Christmas, House."

She turned and made her way back to the party, leaving him to head to the study in peace. He smiled to himself as he reached the closed door. Reaching out, he slowly turned the knob and found precisely what she had described on the other side of the door.

Maybe this Christmas wouldn't be as bad as the ones that he had spent the afternoon remembering. He poured himself a glass and picked up the book, he walked over to the leather couch and relaxed into it. He propped his feet up on the table and took a sip of scotch.

"Twelve-year-old Macallan," he mumbled to himself as he lowered the glass down to the table beside the couch. "A merry Christmas indeed."


End file.
